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CHAPTERNINETEEN
I’ve never liked the smell of hospitals. The sterile furniture, the chemically clean scent, All of it reminds me of the times when I felt the most alone. It’s a different hospital and a different room, but somehow it still feels exactly the same. I shouldn’t be here.
“May we should come back later?” I ask, worrying my lip as I glance over my shoulder at her room down the hallway. “She just started feeling better a couple of days ago. I don’t know if she’s even up for visitors.”
“She cleared it with her doctors yesterday, P.” Cyrus huffs as he scrolls through his phone. “Quit making excuses.”
“She’s fine, Baby, ” Tris adds, latching his eyes on me, “and she’s expecting you.”
Great.
Ever since we left the house, I haven’t been able to do anything without at least two of them flanking my sides. I won’t lie. The built in security detail hasn’t been as hard to adjust to as I thought it would be. I guess there’s some comfort in knowing the fact that it’s not me they don’t trust this time. It’s Dimitri.
After Atlas notified The Organization of Dimitri’s many transgressions against one of their most profitable syndicates, they were swift to dethrone him from his position. That should be good news, but now that he’s been officially blacklisted, The Reapers are worried about the lengths he’ll go to enact his revenge on us. After all, now he has nothing to lose.
“I think I should just wait a little longer.” I say, stalling. “Atlas isn’t even here yet.”
Cyrus and Tristan give each other a look, but they say nothing. Judgy dickheads.
They’re seated next to each other in two of the dark leather chairs lining the wall across from me, and when I’m not looking, I can feel their eyes on me. Their concern would feel sweet if I didn’t already feel so damn suffocated. I know it was my idea to come visit her, but now that I’m actually here, all I want to do is go back home. Ezra shifts in his seat beside me and studies me with that unreadable look of his. I give him a look back that screams, get me the fuck out of here, but he just averts his eyes and sinks deeper into his seat. Looks like I’m facing this hurdle on my own. Figures.
“How is she?” Atlas asks as he walks up to join the four of us. He had a followup meeting with The Organization and The Mercenaries that he couldn’t miss, but he made it here in good time.
“I don’t know.” I say numbly, rubbing my nose as I stare through the window outside of her private suite. “We haven’t gone in yet.”
“I see.” He says, taking a seat beside me and settling into the cheap vinyl seat.
I feel uneasy. Like my stomach has been twisted into a tight knot and no matter how hard I try to loosen it, all of my efforts only make it worse. I knew coming here would feel like this, but I forced myself to do it, anyway. I owe this to her. To both of them, really. But facing them feels impossible.
I glance at Atlas and study his features. The cool, collected display he presents is comforting and I find myself wanting to lean on him, trying to get some of that confidence for myself. “I didn’t expect it to be this hard.” I say, trying to search for the right words. “It’s my fault she’s in there. She must hate me.”
“Everyone made mistakes. Melanie included. And you probably aren’t the only one feeling like you’re to blame. You should talk to her. I can go with you, if you want?”
Why does he always seem to know the right things to say?
I give Atlas a nod and he links his hand in mine. We get to the window just outside of her room and I pause.
“She looks tiny.” I say, squeezing his hand harder. And dull, I don’t add. Nothing like the ferocious woman that always intimidated the hell out of me.
“She lost a lot of blood.” Atlas says, clenching his jaw. “But she’s a survivor.”
“And smart as hell.” I add, with a sad smile. “It’s a good thing she and Charles played dead when Dimitri’s men came to wipe out the survivors.”
“Yeah.” Atlas retorts, rubbing his fingers against the back of my hand. “She’s a fighter, always has been. I’m grateful she fought to save you. Otherwise, who knows what could’ve happened.”
“She shouldn’t have done that.” I say, shaking my head. “She barely knows me. Why the hell would she try to save me?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He suggests, looking through the window. “She wants you to come in.”
I spot her smiling at me through the window and instead of stalling any longer; I bite the bullet and walk through the door.
“Hey.” I say, taking a seat in the chair furthest from her.
“Jesus, Stevie.” She says with a smile. “I know I look like a zombie right now, but I don’t bite.”
“Sorry.” I say, moving to slide into the seat closest to her. “I don’t really know how to act right now.”
“Me either.” She admits. “But I’m glad you came.”
